Shattered Glass(71)
We were driving in silence until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “What did he mean you don’t even like boys?” Darryl was smirking in the back seat. Peter sat in front, wearing his impenetrable gaze, which I was beginning to understand meant that he was upset or sad.
“It means he likes T with his A. He prefers ladypenis over the real thing. Gay for pay. Norman Normal. He’s a breeder. Het-er-oh-sexy,” he mimed sign language.
“Darryl,” Peter sighed long-sufferingly. “Would you please shut up?”
Gay for pay? How did that explain Alvarado. For that matter, how did it explain Darryl. “Is he on medication?”
“Don’t encourage him with the option of legal drugs.”
“You’re not contradicting him.”
Peter licked his lips, and my heart sank in my body before rebounding with a much less vibrant thump. “He’s…right.”
“And you’re…straight?”
“I’m okay with men. Maybe I’m partially gay? I don’t know. I don’t label it. I like both. But, gun to my head, I prefer women.”
“Then—”
“I prefer you overall.” Peter grinned. My heart rate exceeded the speed of sound.
In the back, Darryl scoffed loudly then, maturely, made a gagging sound. “He couldn’t find his prostate with his head firmly up his ass. Seriously, Rabbit, what the fuck?”
“I would just like to throw out there that we can all stop talking about putting things up my ass. No fly zone. Do not enter. No parking.”
Peter’s smile made me squirm in my seat and resume silence for the rest of the trip to the courthouse.
What’s That You Say?
Angelica met us on the front steps of the building after I texted her. As we entered the courthouse, I expected Peter’s piercings to set off the metal detector, but surprisingly it remained mute. I just then noticed he wasn’t wearing his lip or eyebrow ring, and obviously he’d taken out his other piercings for this. Such random maturity from him mystified me.
On our way through security, Angelica briefed us. “The Feds are here,” she said, throwing her soft leather briefcase onto the scanning belt.
I tossed my wallet and keys into a tub, digging in my pockets for change. “They know.”
“They know,” she agreed with a firm nod, not losing pace as she grabbed her case and clacked down the marble hall. Neither of us looked back at Darryl and Peter, but the patter of jogging feet told me they were behind us.
“What’s that mean for bond?”
“Depends on if the D.A. decides to hold back today and let the feds handle their case first. I doubt it. Big case, lots of publicity. They’ll both be vying for his blood. I think Will (Will Schoemaker—the District Attorney) has the upper hand. He has a stronger and more relevant case.”
“Just a witness that saw him hours earlier,” Peter argued vehemently.
“Time of death has moved. Coroner put it between ten and midnight. The neighbor that heard the shots is retracting his statement. He says it could have been later. Biggest problem now is that they know who they have. Will is trying him as an adult.”
She finally stopped moving in front of a large set of polished wooden doors which opened into a courtroom. “Peter, right now you have to worry about two things. Cai might be denied bond, and you are probably going to be at least questioned, if not detained, by the Federal Prosecutor.”
“Why would they deny bond?” I asked. At sixteen Cai was hardly a hardened criminal, but I knew the answer even as I asked. “They skipped town.”
“He knows how to disappear,” she affirmed. “And they’ll use the fact that the feds want him in order to prove he has a history of violence.”
“He’s not going to get bond,” Peter said, all emotion drained from his face. My earlier thoughts bore out; when Peter was most emotional, he shut down.
“I didn’t say that. He hasn’t been charged with a crime by the federal prosecutor yet. That’s in our favor. And there’s no murder weapon or witness who saw the actual shooting.”
I failed to catch Angelica’s careful wording. “Then why did they jump to prosecute?” I was confused. Most prosecutors wouldn’t even file with that kind of case.
“Cai’s girlfriend is making a deal. She says Prisc raped Cai, and Cai went back there, got a gun from the living room, and then she heard a shot.”
“That bitch! She’s a lying smack addict,” Darryl screeched, his voice echoing in the enormous halls. Half the courthouse turned around.
“She’s lying,” Peter echoed. “Prisc didn’t rape him. And he didn’t go back there.”